


My Perfect Pet

by TheProfoundBlade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Bloodplay, Denial, Dom!Alastair, Fingering, Literally cannot get enough of these two, M/M, Pleading, Shower Sex, Sub!Dean, Teasing, handjob, s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProfoundBlade/pseuds/TheProfoundBlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting back from Hell, Dean is starting to get horrible nightmares. He tries to relax one sleepless night with a shower, but gets rudely interrupted by an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Perfect Pet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Back From Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495945) by [Kagemirai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagemirai/pseuds/Kagemirai). 



> I don't know how to write short ficlets about this pairing. I can't stop myself from like.. painting it out completely.  
> This was extremely inspired by Kagemirai's "Back From Hell" - there's a great shower scene with these two knuckleheads and I was inspired instantly to write one of my own. Thanks for the inspiration, I hope you all enjoy this!

“N-no… Please.”  
“Stop, ple-”  
“No… No-”  
“Please, stop!”

With a jolt, Dean sat upright in his filthy motel-bed, sweat running from his torso and forehead, soaking his cover, underwear and bedsheets. His eyes dash across the room, trying to find signs that he isn’t dreaming anymore, that he’s alive and well, not back in Hell. He catches a glimpse of one of Sam’s feet peeking out from the covers on the other bed, causing him to let out a sigh of relief before trying actively to control his breathing. He clasps at his chest and feels his heart pounding, wondering if he’d die one day from the nightmares, since they practically made his heart jump through his chest. 

“Can’t take this anymore…” he grunts to himself, grabbing at the cover and pulling it to his face, drying off some of the droplets of sweat left on his eyebrows. He’d not been back from Hell long and he had started getting nightmares filled with screams and pain the last week or so. Every time he found rest he’d be haunted in his dreams, leaving the hunter without any sort of energy the following day, causing him to fuck up on the various hunts he and Sam had been on. Today, he’d slipped and fell just as they busted in on a vamp-nest, causing them all to flee before the brothers had time to slice some heads off.

Dean tossed his legs over the bedside and scooted out to sit on the edge, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, sighing to himself. He needed a shower, right now, or else he’d stink even worse tomorrow than he already did.  
He got on his feet and walked silently past the sleeping giant on the bed next to his, looking down with a smile, grabbed the whisky bottle on the table nearby and closed the bathroom door silently behind him. He knew it took a lot to wake Sam when he was out this cold, but Dean felt he had to be considerate to his brother regardless. He dropped his sweat-wet drawers and stepped into the shower, pulling the glass door shut behind him and turned on the water.

As the water started to warm up on him, he took a huge swig of the whisky, cringing at the aftertaste.  
“Cheap shit,” he grumbled, taking another chug and screwing the cap on, putting it by his feet and leaning forward into the water, resting his elbows on the cold tiles in front of him and trying to think of something calming. He started humming the melody of “Hey Jude”, trying to envision his beautiful mother’s face and her soothing voice. For a moment it worked, and he leaned further in on the wall, taking deep breaths and feeling his muscles starting to rest under the warm water.

In what seemed like an instant, the water became scolding and with a low shriek he turned off the stream. He stared at the faucet head, almost cursing it, looking at the temperature handles to check he didn’t graze them by accident.  
“Damn motels, never got their damn water regulated,” he said, lowly, turning the water back on, finding it at the same pleasant temperature as when he stepped in earlier. He leaned back down, grabbing the whisky bottle and took another deep gulp, closing his eyes and cracking his neck as his lips parted the bottle again. Once more he leaned forward, feeling the water run down his neck and suddenly, he felt a presence in the room with him.

“Cas?”  
He grunted, trying to look through the fogged up glass-wall, not seeing any figures in the fog. He was positive someone was there, clenching his free fist and looked over his shoulder, taking a deep breath,  
“Cas, it’s really not cool to interrupt a dude’s private shower. Or any shower.”

“I’m not some filthy angel, Dean.”

The voice was nasal but clear, low and reeked of evil. This wasn’t Castiel for sure, but Dean couldn’t remember the voice and was still blinded by the fog. He looked back down to the bottle in his hands for a second, and as soon as he did he felt the water scold him again. He tried to turn off the faucet but his arm got stopped by a strong, slender arm grabbing at both his wrists, holding him steady.

“I’m disappointed in you Dean, I thought you’d recognize me at least a little.” the voice hissed behind him, lips almost touching the edge of Dean’s ear. Dean writhed and grunted in pain, feeling his chest getting burned steady by the scalding water, fighting against the constraints but to no avail.

“Alright boy, fine. We can wait with the water for a while. The arctic has cooled you down too much,” the voice said as the water cooled down instantly, almost a bit too cold against the sore skin. Dean panted, dropping his head slightly, eyes trying to recognize the grip on his own wrists.  
“What do you want, you perv? What’ve you done to Sam?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here, don’t worry princess. Wouldn’t want him to interrupt our little interaction tonight.”  
“Sure as hell ain’t gonna interact with you, whoever the hell you are-”  
“Sure like using that word, huh Dean… Hell…”

Dean felt the tip of a tongue caress the edge of his ear, wincing away from it and grunting, trying to force his broad shoulders backwards, maybe being able to tumble the other man behind him. 

“So feisty. I’m glad you’ve not changed, my boy.”  
“Let go of me you filthy fuck-”  
“Oh my boy, you’re only making me more excited to be here now.”

Dean closed his eyes as he felt the body behind him creep in, chest bumping into wet shoulders, hips thrusting forward slowly to hit his ass. The man lifted their arms up over Dean’s head, crossing the hunter’s hands over each other and held them there with one hand, another roaming down a muscular arm to finally end up at the still swollen handprint Castiel the angel had left on Dean.

“I’m not too pleased to see you claimed by someone else, Dean…”  
“I’m not claimed by anyone.” the hunter grunted back, looking up at the bottle in his hand. Maybe he could drop it behind him? Distract the perv, knock him over in this restricted space. As the thought went through his mind, the grip around his wrists grew excruciatingly painful, causing his fingers to slip the bottle, making it to crash on the floor, spilling the remaining whisky over his feet and shards of brown glass got scattered under him. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean…” the man hummed, pushing further into Dean’s body, causing him to take a step forward and planting his foot on a sharp shard, making him shout loudly.  
“Gah, goddamnit, Sam!” Dean shouted, but before he could raise his voice even higher his throat got grabbed and clenched, stopping him from breathing out of pain and fear.  
“You really can’t remember me, Grasshopper? All the fun we had together?”

In an instant, a flood of memories surged through Dean, making him shake viciously. Memories of endless rivers of blood, torn flesh, various sharp tools and extremely loud shouts and howls. Finally, the voice broke through his mind - this was his master, his teacher. When Dean had said yes in Hell, he’d been guided and molded by the master torturer of Hell, the one who had broken the Winchester himself. 

Alastair.

“Finally! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me a trip downstairs again Deano, you’re becoming awfully slow up here.”  
“Ah-Alastair, I-”  
“Sssh boy, it’s alright. I won’t harm you-” the demon sighed, “- too much, anyway. Can’t cause suspicion. I just couldn’t keep my hands from you now I’m finally up here.”

Dean’s body was still shaking viciously, he felt his knees buckle under him and instead of holding his breath he started hyperventilating, terrified for his life - even more so, Sammy’s, once the demon would be done with Dean. 

“Do you need a moment? I promise I won’t harm you Dean. Not unless you tell me to.”  
Alastair loosened his grip and dropped both his hands to Dean’s hips, gently planting - oddly - cold palms on the wet skin. Dean stopped shaking so furiously, lowering his arms and tried to focus on his breathing again, slowly taking deep breaths and exhaling for a little while. There was an odd silence between them and the thoughts and memories were still racing behind his eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Dean said quietly, biting at his bottom lip as he lifted his foot from the glass shard, stepping back a little and feeling himself support his torso on the tall demon behind him, “Why’re you here, why… Why in my god damn shower?”  
“I know how distraught you’ve been in your dreams, missing me terribly-” Alastair hummed, pushing cold fingertips into the soft skin under them, “- and since I’m up here for a little while, I figured I could help you ease up a little. For old times’ sake.”  
“I don’t need easing up-” Dean objected, furrowing his brows deep, trying to fight the pleasant sensation surging from the cold fingertips.  
“Liar, liar….” Alastair whispered, moving his lips down the back of Dean’s head to the side of his neck, planting gentle kisses all the way. Dean swayed in his stance a little, fluttering his eyes slightly and falling more back into Alastair’s embrace, feeling like he was fighting himself mentally as he did it. 

_“Why am I doing this? Why the hell do I like this? What’s he doing to me, I have to be under some spell, I can’t- “_

His trail of thought got stopped viciously as the cold hands wrapped around him completely now, nails digging into his skin, body being pressed firmly onto him, gentle kisses becoming rough and vicious. Dean let out a low groan, heart starting to pump hard in his chest again, goosebumps forming on his arms and legs. This feeling was so familiar, somehow, and he welcomed it more and more. 

“I knew you missed me, pet,” Alastair hummed between kisses, digging his sharp teeth into the tense neck muscles in front of him. “We don’t have to tell a soul. I know you like to be a ladies-man up here.”  
“Shut up,” Dean growled in a moan, pressing himself backwards, trying to bait out more touches.  
“Oh my boy, you forget so easy how the rules are.” 

Alastair moved back quickly, grabbing Dean by the hair and the other hand running over the hunter’s chest to his throat once more, holding him still. Dean objected, trying to arch back, trying to find the body behind him again but Alastair made sure he had none of it. Alastair was the one in charge, Dean knew and remembered this clearly, but he was defiant and he wanted to be disobedient, something in him wanted to be punished. The demon tugged quickly in the tuft of hair he had between his fingers, hissing through his teeth and Dean could tell there was a smile planted on the face behind him. 

“So pretty,” Alastair sighed, eyeing up and down the naked body in front of him, “Wish I could pull you apart again.”  
“Please,” Dean whispered with the air he could muster to gather, “Please Alastair, ta-”  
“Speak up, boy,” the demon growled, loosening his grip to let the hunter catch a breath again.  
“Please, take me. M-make me your bitch.” 

Alastair cocked his head slightly, licking his lips slowly, eyeing the muscular neck again. Dean was still swaying in his stance, still fighting himself inside, saying these things, feeling so drawn to this filthy demon. Between his mind struggling, the thought of Sam waking up and coming in the bathroom kept scaring him, unsure for which reason the most; either Sam would see Dean being taken by some dude, or he would see him being held hostage by a demon. Both scenarios scared Dean immensely, but before he could think further Alastair moved back in on him, making him pant and shake again.

“So eager. Has it really been that bad? Have you kept yourself for me?”  
“Y-yes,” Dean sighed, not sure if he was actually telling the truth or not. Right now, it felt true.  
“My perfect pet,” Alastair hummed as he moved his hands all around Dean’s naked, wet body, one hand brushing at the dark hair over Dean’s half-hard length. The hunter sucked in a breath through his teeth as he felt the fingertips brush dangerously close to his dick, wishing they had gone further down.

The water slowly drenched Alastair’s clothes, sticking onto Dean’s back every time they parted just the slightest from each other. Cold hands made sure Dean’s skin was filled with goosebumps, pulling and pinching selected places all over the hunter’s torso. The demon ground his hips painstakingly slow up against Dean’s ass, causing the hunter to whine and press backwards again, growing impatient of the seemingly neverending teasing his master was doing. This time, Alastair accepted the movement and moved his hands back over Dean’s hips, moving his face into the damp hair and hissing lowly as he thrust forward, pulling Dean back. 

“Missed you so,” the demon almost whispered, moving one of his hands to open his own pants, the other travelling to Dean’s length which now stood, throbbing and angry, pleading for touches. Alastair wrapped his hand assertively around the root, clenching the hard dick in his grasp and nudging his nose through the hair in front of him. Dean buckled a little in his knees as he felt the cold hand take hold of him, letting his own arms travel backwards to find Alastair’s sides and clenching at the wet cloth. 

“Ah-Al-” Dean panted, feeling the grip slowly move up and down him, masterfully caressing the throbbing head with a strong thumb, feeling himself relaxing more and more into the sensation, the thought of anything bad coming out from this completely vanishing. He wanted to be taken, he wanted to be abused like he had not long ago, wanted the pain and pleasure to send him soaring, and he knew Alastair was the right person - demon, whatever - to make him get there. Alastair knew all the tricks, knew exactly what made Dean tick, and the longer they stood there, moving together, the more Dean thought maybe he hadn’t had nightmares, maybe it was distress calls for his master to come take him.

“I’m gonna have to prepare you a little, pet. Can’t spill too much blood in here, would make a mess.” Alastair said, slowly brushing a cold palm over Dean’s ass, trying to signal him to spread his legs a little. Dean obliged, knew exactly what the demon had meant with the blood; in Hell, blood and guts had acted as their lube when they had taken each other. It was easier, more true to their style and the sensation had been extreme, he could remember clearly now. He parted his legs slightly, eyes closed tight and trying his best not to moan loudly as Alastair still worked him good. 

Alastair bit down on the tender shoulder in front of him as he circled Dean’s entrance slowly with a single finger, and in rhythm with himself he entered slowly, causing the hunter to halt his breathing for a moment, mouth open and head thrown back slightly. It didn’t take long for Alastair to push another finger in, slowly working his pet open, moving back and forth with his own hips and timing it with his other hand’s movements.  
Dean was already far over the edge, feeling himself getting closer and closer to exploding, breath coming out in small, silent pants as he tried to rock himself with the demon. Alastair noticed, knew Dean was close and sank his teeth deep in the muscle under him, only to pull back off instantaneously and move silently to Dean’s ear, whispering;

“You only come when I tell you, boy.”

Dean made a distraught whimper, trying to stop the sensation building in him.  
“I can’t- I can’t Al, you feel too good,” he cried, trying to think of anything else but it was impossible.  
“You know how you can stop yourself. We trained this, Dean…” Alastair hissed, never stopping in his movements, finally pushing a third digit in and actively seeking the soft bundle of nerves, intentionally making Dean go crazy.  
“Please, I don’t- I can’t-”, Dean cried.  
“Do it, boy.”

With a moan Dean nodded harshly, removing one of his hands from his master’s sides to his own thigh, slowly moving to touch his tight, sensitive balls. He cupped them both and squeezed his hand, hard, forcing out a cry from himself and a hard throb through his dick. He felt Alastair nod against his head and he did it again, the immense pain he was causing himself distracting him from the amazing sensation if only for a moment. 

The men panted harshly together, Dean whimpering and crying out every so often from stopping himself, Alastair humming every time he heard a whimper make it out from the beautiful, soft lips.  
“Can’t wait anymore, boy. Too tempting.” the demon growled, retracting his fingers and running the hand over his own rock hard length. Dean opened his eyes as soon as he felt the tension leave him and turned his head to try and catch a glimpse of his master behind him, not actually having seen him all this time. He wasn’t disappointed in the choice of meat suit - tall, lean, sunken in eyes, gruff salt’n’pepper beard. Not far from how he remembered Alastair in Hell. 

“Please-”  
“Hush. I will stop if you’re going to act so impatient.”

Yep, Alastair was lusting just as hard as himself now, Dean thought. Now was not the time to speak, just to let him do whatever he wanted. Dean moved his head back, hung it low and grit his teeth - expecting pain, expecting pleasure. Alastair adjusted his stance, aligned himself and as he pushed in slowly he clenched his grip around Dean, causing the hunter to let out a guttural moan, throwing his head back in ecstasy.  
Alastair filled him completely, pushing in harshly to the hilt, growling with every slight movement they made together. They stood for a moment, breathing in unison, Alastair’s hands still and Dean’s chest visibly pounding. 

“So perfect, my boy,” the demon whispered, finally moving again, slowly pulling out and gently pushing back in. Dean’s grip on himself had loosened and he started panting silently again, infuriating Alastair.  
“What did I tell you?” he growled, as he thrust forward and hit Dean’s sweet spot masterfully. He held still for a moment, waiting for a response but it couldn’t make it past Dean’s lips. Instead, a few seconds after, the hunter cried out painfully, curling in over himself slightly, sending a clear signal to Alastair that he was sorry and that he’d be a good boy.

“Good. Remember; only when I tell you.”  
Alastair removed his grip from Dean and placed his hands back on the hips of his pet. He dug in his nails slightly, moved back out slowly and savoured the moment. Dean was frustrated, shaking and panting hard, wanting to push back on the hard length but stayed still. Finally, with force, Alastair slammed into him, causing Dean to whimper again, unintentionally clenching around his tight balls.

They both were breathing heavy now, skin slapping viciously, Dean whimpering and trying to praise his master as he got filled with every thrust, but no real words could leave his lips. Alastair was groaning deep as well, grip around the hips growing tighter. Dean had to clench his grip on himself with every thrust now, hardly able to control himself at all now, hand pressed up against the wall in front of him to make sure they didn’t fall, pressing back a little to feel the thrusts harder. Alastair moaned, loudly, as he thrust quicker and quicker, fingers fighting to stay put.

“Scream for me, pet, I want to hear you scream for me,” he growled, and Dean instantly shot hot, white strings, his moans almost primal and loud. Between the thrusts and his own orgasm, he managed to muster out “Yes, Alastair, yes!” and this sent the demon soaring now, howling almost as he filled up his pet completely with his own scalding cum.

They stood still for a while, panting still, Alastair wrapping his arms around Dean completely now, holding him tight and resting his face against the broad, tense shoulders. Dean was trying to breathe proper, moving his hands to hold over Alastair’s arms, letting his head fall back against the shoulder behind him, sensation still surging through him. 

“Just as I remembered, pet.” the demon hummed, pulling himself out slowly, not paying any mind to the still warm water running over them. Dean’s heart was slowing down, finally, and he felt like he could breathe normally again. He opened his eyes, almost sleepily, looking up at the running faucet and letting out a final, deep, quiet moan.  
“So were you,” he hummed, feeling a small smile creep onto his lips.

“I have to leave you now,” Alastair sighed, standing back up straight and taking his arms back, packing himself up and tugging down his drenched shirt down the black pants. “but we’ll meet again soon. Promise.”

“Alastair, master-” Dean whispered, turning around to see absolutely nothing. Alastair was already gone and the water grew ice cold as a response. Dean flinched, turning off the stream and looked back behind him, almost distraught that Alastair had left so suddenly. He looked down on the floor, eyeing the brown shards that was scattered all over the place, sighing to himself. He reached down, took the shards and stepped out of the shower, throwing the shards into the sink rather ruthlessly. He dragged a hand across the fogged up mirror, looking at himself and he was positive he saw his eyes flash black for a moment. 

“Mind’s just messing with me tonight,” he said, shaking it off, taking a towel and moving back out to the beds. Sam was still fast asleep, seemingly unaffected by the primal roars that had been echoing in the bathroom, which was perfectly fine for Dean. He crawled back into his bed, sheets now cold from the sweat he’d left there earlier, but for the first time in a week he fell asleep and was not met by terrible nightmares.


End file.
